


coffee and cupcakes

by HeartonFire



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Baking, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartonFire/pseuds/HeartonFire
Summary: After leaving his government job, Clint decided to open a coffee shop, but it turns out, running your own cafe doesn't mean getting free coffee forever. You have to actually have customers.When Clint is almost ready to give up the whole idea of the coffee shop, Natasha suggests he add some pastries to the menu, and she just happens to know a guy who can help.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 20
Kudos: 94





	coffee and cupcakes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [these](https://heartonfirewrites.tumblr.com/post/618592809034924032/okay-okay-okay-but-buckys-metal-arm-itd-stay) [posts](https://heartonfirewrites.tumblr.com/post/618597046043164672/quandjebois-replied-to-your-post-okay-okay-okay) on Tumblr.

“But Natasha,” Clint whined, leaning on the counter. “I don’t _want_ to.”

“I know, Clint,” Natasha said in her most patient voice. “But you have to do something.” She waved at the mostly empty room, and Clint sighed.

“I just don’t get it. _I_ would drink liters of coffee in a place like this. I don’t get why no one else wants to. Look how cute the carafes are!” He held one up for her, lovingly running his finger along the tiny arrows that studded the surface, as though Natasha hadn’t been an instrumental part of the design process. “I don’t want to add anything else.”

“Will you just try it?” An edge was starting to creep into Natasha’s voice, and Clint knew she was going to snap soon.

“Fine,” he said with a dramatic sigh, falling forward like he was dying, hands dangling over the edge of the counter. “So who is this guy, anyway?”

Natasha smiled. “Just a guy I know who makes amazing pastries. And he’s on his way, so I should get going.”

“What?” Clint lifted his head to see Natasha already heading for the door. “Where are you going?”

“I do have things to do other than help you save your failing cafe.” Clint’s face fell, and Natasha sighed, frowning. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. With James’ snacks, your coffee, and my marketing skills, you’ll be making money in no time.”

She blew him a kiss and Clint waved her away, pushing himself fully upright to look at least a little bit professional, whenever this guy James arrived. Maybe Natasha was right; he could take a chance on these pastries. He didn’t have much else to lose.

He’d poured everything he had into this place after retiring from his government job. Coffee was Clint’s favorite thing, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time to start his own cafe. Free coffee forever was kind of a great perk.

Except it wasn’t free. Everything, from the location, to the furniture, to the beans, was way more expensive than Clint had anticipated. He’d been sure that he’d start raking in cash immediately, but with a Starbucks on the next corner, it wasn’t that simple. If he didn’t turn things around, and soon, he wasn’t going to have anything left.

The doorbell jingled, and Clint perked up. In walked possibly the hottest man he had ever seen: dark wavy hair pulled back into a loose bun, muscles that strained the limits of what his shirt could contain, and tattoos peeking out of the edge of his sleeve in mesmerizing patterns that Clint wanted nothing more than to examine. His other hand was covered with a glove, and that intrigued Clint even more.

“Uh, hi,” the guy said, smiling broadly at Clint. 

Clint blinked, his brain taking a second to process that he needed to say something back, instead of just staring at this guy. 

“Hi,“ he finally managed, clearing his throat as he switched over to customer service mode. “Hi, and welcome to Lucky Coffee. What can I get you today?”

The guy looked down, chuckling softly to himself, before looking back up at Clint. “Um, didn’t Natasha tell you I was coming?”

“Wait, you’re the guy? _You’re_ James?”

He shrugged. “You can call me Bucky.”

Filing that away as something to ask more about later, Clint tried to focus on his very good plan that was going to keep this guy from taking too much control of what happened here. He had worked it all out, as soon as Natasha had mentioned the idea to him. He was in control. This was his cafe. A few pastries was all he needed to round out his offerings. He was going to say all of that.

But instead, what he said was, “How?”

Bucky laughed lightly again. “How can you call me Bucky? Or how something else?”

“How are you the guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just don’t look like a guy who bakes pastries.”

“What does a guy who bakes pastries look like?” Bucky smiled widely, folding his arms while he waited for Clint’s answer. His shirt seemed likely to tear if he flexed his biceps any further. Clint couldn’t say he’d mind seeing that.

“I don’t know, just not like _that_ ,” Clint said, waving his hand up and down in front of Bucky’s torso. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat again. Time to get serious, and stop being distracted by how hot this guy was and how fun it was to talk to him. “What kind of pastries can you offer me?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure you want to buy pastries from a guy you don’t even believe can bake them?”

Clint flushed, but shook his head. “I’m still not completely convinced. So, did you bring anything for me to try?”

Bucky’s grin widened, and he twisted to take something out of his bag. Clint definitely did not watch the way Bucky’s shirt folded and stretched over his abs and shoulders when he moved.

“Here,” Bucky said, sliding a box across the counter to Clint. Clint caught it, a little startled, and opened it.

Everything looked pretty normal: a scone, a cupcake, a cookie, a muffin. Clint squinted at each one, looking for something wrong with them. There had to be something. There was no way that this guy could look like that and also be fun and also be good at baking. That would just not be fair.

“You just going to look at them?” 

“No,” Clint said, flushing a little as he pulled himself together. Again. “Just inspecting. Visual appeal is important.”

Bucky snorted, staring pointedly around at the empty cafe. “I can see that.”

Clint felt his temper flare a little, but he tried to bite it back. If he was going to make a deal with this guy, he needed to play at least a little bit nice. So, instead of snapping at him with the first quippy thing he could think of, Clint took a bite out of the scone.

It was crumbly and not too sweet, the fruit and icing blending into something that melted in Clint’s mouth. He couldn’t keep a tiny moan from vibrating through him. He wasn’t honestly sure he’d ever had a scone that tasted this good.

“What’s in this?” he said, around another mouthful, spraying a few crumbs.

“You like it?” Bucky asked, watching Clint’s reaction carefully. Clint tried to control his face a little better. Nat always said he had no poker face, but he was going to try his best.

“Doesn’t answer my question, but yeah. Sure. It’s pretty good.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Pretty good? My famous lemon-blueberry scone is _pretty good_?”

Clint shrugged, smirking at the indignation all over Bucky’s ridiculously handsome face. “Yeah. Let’s try the others. Cupcakes are my favorite, so this better be good.”

Making a big show of picking up the cupcake, and feeling Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time, Clint unwrapped it and took a bite. For all the frosting on it, it was just the right amount of sweet too. Clint made an obscene noise even as he fought to keep it to himself. It was just too good.

“Cream cheese frosting?” he said, trying to talk around the cake in his mouth, even as the flavors continued to merge together into something truly spectacular. “Wait, oh my god, what is that? Is that coffee?” 

“Red velvet,” Bucky said, nodding, his voice smooth and low. “With a little espresso for a more intense flavor.” 

Clint swore he saw fireworks exploding behind his eyelids as he took another bite. He was pretty sure this cupcake could single handedly save his shop. He might not even need to sell coffee anymore, if he had this cupcake. His mind was racing, but instead of doing what he normally did, and spewing whatever nonsense popped into his head, Clint forced himself to keep his mouth closed. He was going to play this cool. He could do that. First time for everything.

“So, you like it?”

Clint tried to focus, but it was a challenge, when Bucky was looking at him like that, from under those long eyelashes, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

“Hmm,” Clint said, trying to pull himself together and act like he was anything even remotely resembling a professional. “Do you make any other kinds?”

Bucky smiled. “Sure. What kind do you want?”

“What kinds do you have?” Clint said, folding his arms. He knew Natasha would tell him to stop being difficult, but he didn’t care. He was having fun, flirting with a cute guy for the first time in months, and he wasn’t just going to let that go.

“Lemon, chocolate, carrot, nutella, whatever you want.” Bucky leaned a little closer, and Clint could smell his cologne, mixing with the sweetness of the pastries. Not fair. “What do you want, Clint?” Bucky’s voice dropped an octave, and Clint shivered a little. Bucky was flirting back, and Clint didn’t exactly know what to do with that.

“I’ll have to think about it,” he said, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady. Bucky huffed out a laugh, nodding as he looked down at his boots.

The other two treats were just as good. They were all exactly the kinds of things he liked to eat, and he knew they’d go great with coffee. Of course, Natasha was right. She was always right.

“So, do we have a deal?” Bucky asked, when Clint had finished his bite of the muffin by licking the streusel topping off his fingers.

“Sure. What do you charge?”

“I’m not sure you can afford it.” Clint sighed, rolling his eyes. Bucky laughed. “How about this? You try it out this week, see if it helps, and we’ll work something out.”

“Fine.”

“See you tomorrow, Clint.”

“Goodbye, _James_.” Bucky’s head cocked, but he just grinned and backed out of the cafe. Clint tried not to stare after him, he really did, but he couldn’t help but watch him walk away, while shoving the remaining baked goods into his mouth.

Clint half-expected that Bucky wouldn’t show up the next day. After all, he was offering to do this for free, and it made no sense. He was probably just messing with Clint. It wouldn’t be the first time, but at least this time had been fun while it lasted.

And yet, there he was, knocking on the locked door before sunrise the next morning, looking way too chipper and put together for six AM, but Clint supposed bakers probably kept the same weird hours that baristas did.

“A little help?” Bucky said, pushing past Clint with several large boxes. Clint nodded, helping Bucky load the boxes onto the counter. They were labeled in messy handwriting, and Clint opened the first one to see pastries that looked nothing like the ones Bucky had brought the previous day.

“What are these?”

“Danish,” Bucky said, shrugging as he pushed his hair out of his face. It was loose today, falling in soft waves around his shoulders, and Clint was more than a little tempted to run his fingers through it. “They go well with coffee, or so I hear.”

“But I thought you were going to bring the cupcakes,” Clint said, trying not to whine. Thinking about those cupcakes was the only thing that even got him out of bed that morning, and Bucky had _betrayed him_.

“You never did tell me what you wanted, Clint,” Bucky said, smiling slyly. 

Clint felt his cheeks flush and shook his head. “What’s your most popular flavor?”

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, leaning forward on his elbows, arms straining the sleeves of his jacket. “Not sure. What’s your favorite?”

“Anything with chocolate. Or caramel. Really anything sweet,” Clint said, noticing that Bucky was still staring at him, those blue eyes fixed on Clint’s face. Clint turned away to open another box, forcing himself to look away. Changing the subject seemed like a very good idea right now. “And what are these?”

“Almond squares.”

Clint grimaced. “Almond? Gross.”

Bucky scoffed. “Try one. Bet you’ll change your mind.”

“Bet you I won’t.”

Bucky picked one up and held it out to Clint. He took it and bit a tiny corner of the bar. It was crumbly and sweet, the icing on top mixing with the almond flavor that was just strong enough to be present, but not overpowering. Clint hummed, closing his eyes, but they snapped back open at the sound of Bucky chuckling.

“Told you.”

“We never even bet anything,” Clint said, taking another bite, despite himself. 

“Guess next time we’ll have to.”

Clint cleared his throat. He was not going to think about any possible next times. “I’ll accept these for today, but tomorrow, can you just stick to things I already know I like?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bucky said, eyes glinting. He didn’t move to leave, still leaning against the counter like he had all the time in the world.

“You want a coffee or anything?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. See you tomorrow, Clint.”

“Goodbye, James.” Bucky squinted at Clint. Clint knew he was being a little shit, and that he should just call him Bucky like he wanted, but this was more fun. For how flustered Bucky made him, Clint needed this one thing. 

Bucky showed up again the next day, and the day after that, with more goodies for Clint. He completely ignored Clint’s pleas to be consistent, bringing different things every day, until Thursday, when Clint finally had enough of the surprise boxes.

“Where are the scones? People are going to love those. And the cupcakes?” God, the cupcakes.

“Come on, Clint,” Bucky said, lowering his voice into a rumble again. “We’ve talked about this. You have to decide what you want. Once you do that, I’d be happy to give it to you.”

Clint shivered, despite himself. “Fine. Can I come to your bakery and see what you have?”

Bucky froze, face falling slightly. “What?”

“Can I come see my options, since you apparently won’t bring them to me?”

Bucky blinked at him. “You want to see where I bake?”

“Yeah.” Clint felt a little off-balance at this response. Bucky was never unsure like this, at least not in the four times Clint had met him, and it was more than a little disconcerting. “Is that okay?”

“I guess. Sure.” Bucky scribbled an address on a napkin and slid it across the counter to Clint. He didn’t even stick around to watch Clint open the mystery pastries of the day, just turned and left the shop without another word.

When Kate came in for her shift at noon, Clint was already itching to leave and go see what was going on with Bucky, even though the shop was busier than it had been since they opened. He should have been happy, excited that he was finally getting business, but knocking Bucky off his game had knocked Clint for a loop too.

“Are you okay?” Kate asked, raising an eyebrow as she tied her purple apron around her waist. She shook back her hair, tying it into a messy ponytail and smiling at the next customer.

“Yeah, just need to head out for a bit. You got this under control?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’ve got it.” Her sass was part of why Clint had hired her. That, and the fact that she was willing to work for almost nothing.

“You’re sure?”

“Clint, I swear to god, if you don’t leave right now, I’m quitting.” 

He held up his hands and headed for the door, patting his pocket to make sure he had the napkin before he left. It would be just like him to forget the damn thing and have to come back.

The address was only a few blocks away, and when Clint found it, he stopped in his tracks. It was an apartment building. Clint wasn’t sure what he had expected, but this definitely wasn’t it. 

He rang the buzzer for the apartment Bucky had listed, and the door buzzed open a few seconds later. Taking the steps two at a time, Clint hesitated before knocking. He felt a little weird, thinking about Bucky’s reaction when he asked to come. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. But then, Bucky didn’t have to give him the address. Maybe it was okay that he was here.

He was doing all this overthinking in the hallway, hand raised to knock, when the door opened. Bucky blinked at him, the confident smirk back on his face. 

“You coming in, or what?”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Clint said, nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry to follow Bucky before he changed his mind. He found himself in a big kitchen, with wraparound counters that were spattered with flour. “This your place?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I’m kind of new at this. Seemed easier to just bake here.” His hair was pulled back again, away from his face, and this close, it just accentuated the sharpness of his cheekbones and the blue of his eyes. Unfair. “So, you want to keep talking about my apartment, or do you want to make something?”

The air between them felt different, being there in Bucky’s home, than it did in the coffee shop. Clint felt like he was intruding. He shouldn’t have pushed it. He should have just let Bucky keep bringing him delicious snacks and not demanded more than Bucky was comfortable with. He should really leave.

“You ever made pastry before?” Bucky asked, snapping Clint back to reality. 

“I don’t bake,” Clint said, shaking his head. 

Bucky waved him over, and Clint noticed suddenly that Bucky wasn’t wearing his glove. His hand was dark grey and shiny, made of overlapping plates of metal. Bucky saw him looking and held it up, letting the light reflect off it as he wiggled his fingers. “Prosthetic.”

“Military?”

Bucky nodded. “Three tours. Finally got sent home after an IED blew me up, with the rest of the guys in my unit.”

Clint frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s great for pastry,” Bucky said, grinning. “Stays cold, so I don’t have to worry about the butter melting.”

“Huh.” Clint was a little distracted, watching as Bucky’s fingers manipulated the dough, spreading it out on the counter. “Never thought of that.”

“C’mere.” Bucky waved him closer again, and Clint rounded the counter to join him. 

“What are we making?”

“Danishes.” 

Clint grinned. “People liked those.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky said, cocky smile spreading across his face again. “Did you?”

“Sure. Not as much as I would probably like cupcakes, but yeah. They’re pretty good.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Roll this out, will you?” He handed Clint a rolling pin and Clint stared at it like it might attack him if he took his eyes off it. “Clint? Is there a problem?”

“James,” Clint said, in his sassiest voice. “What part of ‘I don’t bake’ is too difficult to understand?”

“You want me to show you?” Clint shrugged, holding out the rolling pin, but instead of taking it, Bucky moved behind Clint, wrapping his hands over Clint’s. One was warm, one was cool, and both were stronger than Clint had anticipated. Bucky smelled like cinnamon and sugar and heat and Clint forgot for a second what they were supposed to be doing. “Like this,” he said, voice deep as it vibrated through Clint. He guided Clint through the motions of rolling out the dough, muscles flexing in his forearms as he moved them both.

Clint cleared his throat when Bucky let go, backing away a half-step to give himself a chance to breathe. “Now what?” 

Bucky grinned, still standing very close to Clint. “Now we cut and we wait.”

“Wait? For what?”

“Dough has to rise, sweetheart.”

Clint nodded, as though he knew what that meant. As though the endearment didn’t send a shock of anticipation through him. “So, what do we do while we wait?”

Bucky’s smile sharpened. “I don’t know, Clint. What do you want to do?”

The innuendo dripped from Bucky’s voice, and Clint wanted to give him the real answer, that he wanted to see what that metal arm felt like, wrapped around his waist, that he wanted to see where those tattoos led, that he wanted to see what else that mouth could do, besides talk. He wanted to say all of that, but if it didn’t work out, or if Bucky was just fucking around, Clint wasn’t sure he could take the rejection right now, on top of being the owner of a failing business and generally a failure in the romantic department. At least if he didn’t fuck this up, he could keep flirting with Bucky and imagining what it might be like to be with him.

“Clint?” Bucky said, watching Clint carefully. The smile was fading, and Clint shook his head.

“I think I should go, actually. Bring me whatever kind of cupcakes you want. And the danishes. Or whatever.”

Bucky nodded, looking startled. “Okay.”

“Bye, Bucky,” Clint said, hurrying out the door before Bucky could say anything else.

Clint was sure that Bucky wouldn’t show the next day. Clint had embarrassed himself and he wouldn’t blame Bucky for cutting his losses and finding someone else to give his baking to. Better yet, with the quality he produced, he could probably find someone who could actually afford to pay him for it.

But just like always, there was Bucky, waiting outside the door with a pile of boxes for Clint.

“Morning,” Bucky said, a little warily. 

“Morning.” Clint took a box and set it down, turning back to Bucky. “Listen, I’m sorry --”

Bucky cut him off. “Can we make a deal?”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. What kind of deal are you looking for?”

Bucky’s blue eyes were staring straight through Clint, but Clint didn’t look away. “What do you say I bring you more baked goods next week, and you go to dinner with me tonight?”

Clint froze. “What?”

Bucky bit his lip, looking down at his feet. “If you want, I mean. I just thought…”

“Yes. Yes. Okay. Dinner.” Full sentences were not going to happen right now, but Clint needed Bucky to know his answer. It was the best he could do.

Bucky’s face relaxed back into an easy smile as he lifted his head to meet Clint’s eyes. “Okay. Dinner. I’ll see you later, then.”

As he watched Bucky leave, Clint opened one of the boxes to find a whole array of chocolate cupcakes. Finally, like something out of a dream, so beautiful that he almost didn’t want to eat one.There was a caramel filling on the inside that Clint had not anticipated, and it was gooey and delicious, coating his tongue with the perfect amount of sweetness when he took a bite. He hadn’t quite managed to finish chewing and swallowing before Bucky reappeared in front of him, leaning across the counter and kissing him, hard.

“Bucky?” Clint said, momentarily stunned before giving in and letting himself be kissed. As good as the cupcake was, somehow, Bucky tasted even better.

“Delicious,” Bucky said, smile widening, licking a tiny spot of chocolate off the corner of Clint’s mouth. “Maybe we should start with dessert.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Comments and kudos are always so, so appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [1000-directions](https://1000-directions.tumblr.com/) and [merelypassingtime](https://merelypassingtime.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this for me! Your feedback and suggestions were so helpful, and really brought everything together. <3


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